


If I'm lost, then how can I find myself?

by RunawayCaboose



Series: My irregular heart beat is starting to correct itself [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Cafe, Anxiety, Fitz and his scarves, Fitz is the best baker, Fitz's stammer, Kidnapping, M/M, Pesto Aioli, Problems with words and such, Simmons kind of tries, apricots, hypoxia, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayCaboose/pseuds/RunawayCaboose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz is trying, God, he's trying, to make his words sound right, and then he's there and he doesn't care if his words are wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sarcasm At It's Finest

Mack ducked into the bakery, avoiding the blustery weather outside. There were only a few customer inside, eating and drinking. He was here, he might as well get something, right? He walked up to the boy behind the counter.

“Excuse me.” The boy turned around from where he was cleaning the coffee machine. He had powdered sugar in his hair and dusted across his apron. He opened his mouth, then spun around, disappearing into the back. A girl with a nametag that read ‘Simmons” appeared a few moments later.

“Sorry about that.” She smiled. “Fitz doesn’t talk to strangers.” Mack shook his head.

“It’s fine, I get it.” He smiled at her. “I’d like, uh, actually, what’s good here?”

“Scones are quite nice, Fitz makes them.” Mack nodded.

“One cinnamon scone, please.” An exclamation of ‘Mack’ made him look at the back doorway again.

“Hunter! I didn’t know you worked here!”

“Well, I do! Coffee and stuff.”

“Yeah? Let’s talk more next time I come in, huh? I’ve got to get to work.”

The cinnamon scone was heaven.

-

Mack kept having odd encounters with Fitz. He’d see the man behind the counter, but he wouldn’t speak to Mack. All he wanted to do was give Fitz his compliments, it had been a month.

“Hey, Mack.” Hunter said next time he came in. “We’re doing a thing for regulars tonight. Movie night, you up for it?”

“Of course! Gotta go now, though, I’m running late. Thanks for the scone, Hunter!”

-

Mack arrived late, the movie already playing, being projected on the wall. He took a seat in the back, next to Fitz, but the man didn’t look away from the movie.

“These robotics wouldn’t work.” He murmured. Mack looked at him, surprised, but Fitz didn’t notice him. “I mean, that’s obviously the prince. And he’s cuter with black hair.” Mack spent the rest of the night listening to the man critique Howl’s Moving Castle. He almost laughed during a supposedly romantic moment because Fitz whispered, “Straight people.”

Eventually, the movie ended and the movie-watchers laughed and began to talk about it.

“I liked your commentary.” Mack said, Fitz looked over at him, like he was seeing Mack for the first time, and perhaps he was. Fitz blinked and bolted, the bell on the door ringing behind him. Fitz avoided him after that.

-

A few weeks later and it was starting to get warm. Mack got to the bakery early, just as Simmons was unlocking the door.

“Fitz isn’t here yet, so the scones aren’t done.” She smiled apologetically. 

“I’ll wait.” He told her and sat down at a corner table. Not five minutes later the bell jingled and Fitz entered, scarf draped around his neck. Simmons looked up at him.

“Hello, Fitz!” He smiled.

“Heya, Jemma. You un-unlocked today?” She nodded.

“Yeah. You want a coffee before you start?” He nodded quickly

“Oh, god, yes, pl-please.” He took a seat at the counter, oblivious to Mack’s presence. A few minutes later he had a coffee in his hands and he was sipping it slowly. “I’m making a new scone. It’s, uh, it’s, what’s the word? Something…” He started to snap quickly, a nervous tic, Mack realized, something to help him remember. “It’s a f-fruit. Not apples, but st-starts the same.”

“Fitz, you don’t have to. It’s fine.” She smiled sympathetically at him.

“Apricot?” Mack supplied from the corner.

“Yes, apricot!” Fitz paused, cup halfway to his mouth, and looked at Mack. “Uh… I’m g-gonna, jus-just-” He bolted to the back, leaving his coffee half finished. Simmons frowned.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Thirty minutes later, Simmons slid an apricot scone across his table.

“Compliments of the chef.”

-

Fitz continued to avoid him and when Mack saw the man he was jumpy and nervous. 

-

“I’m not useless, Simmons!” Greeted Mack as he stepped through the door one day. “I can do th-things!”

“I know you can, Fitz, but you don’t have anything to pro-”

“Like hell I-I-I don’t! All of you look at me like I’m-I’m-I’m-” Fitz snapped his finger. Simmons looked at Mack over Fitz’s shoulder.

“Fitz…” Fitz turned around and looked at Mack, panic flashing in his eyes. He huffed and retreated into the back room. “Sorry, Mack. He’s annoyed with me, thinks I’m treating him like a child…”

“Are you?” Simmons blinked.

“Mack, you don’t understand. He used to be my best friend, before everything happened, before the accident, and now he’s different.”

“Is he, though? He’s smart and funny and brilliant and definitely not a child. Treat him the same. I don’t know what happened or who he was before, but who I know now is amazing.” Simmons blinked.

“He… Yes.” Mack heard Fitz move away from the door.

-

Mack didn’t see Fitz for the next few days, but the next time he was early to the coffeeshop, Fitz was behind the counter on the phone.

“No, mum, I-I don’t- No, mum. I’m fine. I’m do-doing great. I’ll call you- call you-” He snapped his fingers.

“Back?” Mack supplied.

“Back! I’ll call you back. Bye, mum.” He hung up the phone. “Er, thanks, Mack.”

“Anytime.”

“No, but… Thanks for the other day too, with Simmons. It’s- It’s helped. A lot.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like to go- go- go-” He snapped his fingers again.

“Out? I’d love to.” Fitz grinned.

  
  



	2. The Not Accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pesto aioli on basil, lettuce, tomato sandwiches

“Fitz, you ready?” Mack asked, grinning at the man as he hung up his apron.

“Yeah, you decide on a place?”

“A little vegetarian restaurant a few blocks away, and since it’s warm, we can walk there.”

“G-great.” Fitz smiled at him and they walked outside together, their hands not quite touching.

As Mack had promised, the restaurant was great, a green and white aesthetic and nice wait staff.

“What can I get you?” Their waitress, Carrie, asked, smiling widely.

“Uh, hang on, just had it.” FItz said, snapping. “It was, uh, it was, Mack?”

“Two veggie BLT’s with pesto aioli.” Carrie smiled and took their menus.

“Thanks, Mack.” Fitz murmured into his drink. “I was about to say it.”

“I know.” They spent the rest of dinner talking about random things, Mack supplying a word every now and again for Fitz, who insisted he was about to say it. The sandwiches were delicious and they walked home in the warm air, though Fitz still had his scarf around his neck.

“You- you don’t know what happened. You don’t know what the- what the-” He snapped his fingers, a crisp sound in the near city silence.

“Accident?” Mack supplied, remembering what Simmons had said. Fitz winced.

“Don’t call it that, do-don’t. Simmons does, I don’t like it, it wasn’t an accident, wasn’t my fault, wasn’t my fault.” He repeated the last phrase like a mantra and took a deep breath. “It really wasn’t my fault. It was, it was late, really late, and I was walking home, and some-somebody grabbed me.” He took a shuddering breath. “He- I- I-”

“You don’t have to tell me, Fitz.”

“I do! You should- should know. I-” He took another deep breath, and laughed humorlessly. “It was his fault, all his fault, the way everyone looks at me now, like I’m broken. I might as well be. H-he took me, kidnapped me, right off the street.  I woke- woke up and it was really dark and he- he was there and I-” He took another breath, fiddling with the loose strings on his scarf. “He beat- beat me, messed me up really badly. This is all his fault, all his. When he was done, he threw me in the pool, I didn’t know there was a pool, but there was. And- and- and they didn’t find me quick enough. I was dea-dead. This is his fault.” He held out his hand and watched it tremble. “Words too, his fault. I was the best, I did all the decorations and stuff, all the difficult stuff and now I can’t keep my damned hands still!” He fisted his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “I- Hypoxia. What they call it, what he did to me. And- and they haven’t caught him. He’s out the-there somewhere.” 

“That shouldn’t have happened to you.” Fitz exhaled heavily.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Not done, not done, you should know this, if you want to do this, he didn’t- he- he ra- ra- ra… He forced me. Forced me, yeah. I don’t- I don’t want all that now.”

“Fitz, that’s understandable.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you still want me?” Fitz stopped walking and looked up at Mack.

“Fitz, I would love to date you.” Fitz blinked, then threw his arms around Mack and sobbed into his chest as the street lights flickered on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more in the series will come, probably written during history class but shh

**Author's Note:**

> First Agents of Shield fic. Poor Fitz, I love him.


End file.
